


Body and Heart

by kwrites



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Angst, Drabbles, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oneshot, Smut, post-episode, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwrites/pseuds/kwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots, drabbles and tumblr prompts. </p><p>* newly added*<br/>7 - S5 Olicity Spec Role-Reversal -- Oliver starts dating again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. drabble #1

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt: "Are smut prompts okay? If so anything with Dom Oliver, Dom tommy and sub felicity. Toys would be great and orgasm denial ☺️☺️☺️☺️"
> 
> This is shameless smut with my three favorite characters. They have a mind of their own and I cannot be held accountable for their actions. This hasn't been beta'd and any mistakes are my own! 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

Felicity knew exactly what she was doing. They had been playing the game all night. She smiled at the faceless man in front of her, lightly touching his arm and laughing at his joke. It wasn’t funny, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t her endgame, but  _they_  were. 

 

Ever since she had started up this kind-of-strings attached relationship with Oliver and Tommy, this had become one of her favorite maneuvers. Whenever she was in the mood for one of their games, this was her go-to method of charting the course.

 

Because as much as she enjoyed letting them take control in the bedroom, she was the one in charge of deciding  _when_  they were allowed to, whether they knew that or not.

 

She took a sip of her vodka tonic, and glanced up at the balcony where she knew they’d be watching. She wasn’t disappointed. Oliver’s eyes were tight, and she could see the tension straining in his throat as he swallowed back his drink. Tommy’s eyes were dark as well, but alight with a twinge of excitement - he knew what was coming.

 

Of course, they both knew the score - but out of the two, Oliver was always the one who had more difficulty in separating the game from reality. His jealousy was a constant presence in their relationship - towards both herself and Tommy - and  _fuck if she didn’t get off on it._  Every. Single. Time.

 

She subtly raised an eyebrow in their direction before turning her attention back to the man in front of her. She knew they would stew on that for awhile.

 

Looking at Rob - no, Brian? Whatever. She couldn’t remember his name, but he was perfectly polite. She felt a twinge of regret for leading him on, but she had an agenda. They continued to exchange pleasantries for the next ten minutes before she excused herself to the bar for a new drink - lightly declining his invitation to buy. She knew he would get the message.

 

She had just placed her order when she felt a warm arm slide across her waist, pulling her close enough to smell the aftershave she had come to love. She shivered slightly as she felt his breath wash over her ear. “Felicity, you’re being very naughty tonight. But you know that, don’t you?”

 

Turning her head, she met Oliver’s dark stare with her own, a small smile pulling at the side of her lips. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she said, “Mmm. I might. What are you planning to do about it?” His eyes darkened even more but before he could speak, she felt another presence behind her. Tommy.

 

“Oh, Felicity. We are going to do  _a lot._ ”

 

Her breath hitched as she fought back a moan.  _Fuck, yes._

 

* * *

 

 

Oliver’s eyes sweep over her form admiringly, taking all of it -  _her_  - in. Her arms are pulled over her head, a light synthetic rope binding them to the headboard behind her. He and Tommy had shed her clothing within seconds of entering the bedroom and her body was glistening in front of him in the low light.  _She was truly something._

 

Her chest was heaving slightly, and he knew that the blindfold across her eyes already had her excitement pumping. He looked over to Tommy standing next to him, observing him as he drank her in as well. His pants were already tented and he had tossed his shirt somewhere in the excitement of getting her home.  _How had he gotten so lucky to have both of them in his life?_

 

Tommy’s eyes met his moments later, a wicked grin lighting up his face as they geared up for a special night. He knew Felicity liked to think she was in charge - and sometimes she was - but that was truly only because he allowed it. Enjoyed it, even. But tonight, he could feel the itch in his bones to take it further than they had in the past. The earlier fight with his mother was sitting heavily in the back of his mind and when he had walked into Poison to see Felicity all over another guy, his ire had only burned brighter. Taking one look at her, he had turned to Tommy to relay his plans, and he had readily agreed.

 

Taking a step towards the bed, he spoke softly. “Felicity, do you know why you’re being punished tonight?” She breathed out a soft, “Yes”, and his voice was sharp as he responded back immediately, “Yes,  _what_?”

 

“Yes, _sir_.” Her voice was rough and he smiled satisfactorily even though he knew she couldn’t see his face. He nodded at Tommy who took his cue to move to the bed, beginning to run his hands in a light caress up and down her legs.

 

“Tell us why you’re being punished tonight.” Her legs are already moving tremulously under Tommy’s ministrations and her voice wavers slightly in response. “I was flirting with another man..mmm.. in front of you. Sir.”

 

“That’s right, Felicity. And you knew exactly what you were doing. Or at least, you think you did. But the thing is, when you decided to start this game, you didn’t know what was in store for you. Because, sweetheart, tonight is going to be a little rougher than usual. And I need to know that you’re up for this.”

 

* * *

 

Tommy smirks at her resulting moan from Oliver’s words, even as his own dick tightens at the timbre of his voice. While Tommy was certainly the more talkative one outside of the bedroom, always upbeat and charmingly sarcastic - Oliver had always been the more vocal of the two within the confines of the bedroom. Always the one taking charge. Tommy of course was his second in command, and he didn’t mind - because Oliver like this was devastatingly erotic and he couldn’t deny that even when he was playing beside him - it felt like he was be dominated right along with Felicity. And he kind of liked it.

 

Felicity’s mumbling, “Yes - yes, I’m up for it, please,” and he grins as he leans down to place soft kisses up and down her neck, taking little bites along the way. She always tastes so good and nothing was going to be sweeter than bringing her continuously to the edge, only to back off at the last second. Because Oliver had decided tonight was going to be first and foremost about  _them_.

 

Oliver moves to the bed, one knee dipping into it as he whispers heavily, “Good girl.” His mouth dips to her chest, his lips closing around one nipple. He’s tugging and licking and Tommy decides to join in, his own mouth closing around the other hard point. They continue their torment, moving in tandem as they tease and massage her breasts. Her moans are increasing and they lock eyes for a split second before backing away, leaving her gasping beneath them.

 

“What- what, why are you stopping?” She’s panting, her mouth open in an effort to breathe, and Tommy is pretty sure he’s never seen a hotter sight in all of his years. He’s so hard it hurts but he waits for Oliver’s next direction.

 

“The first rule of tonight Felicity, is no talking. I don’t want to hear a word out of you unless it’s a scream. Do you  _understand_? No - don’t speak. Just nod.” Tommy can’t think of a word to describe his voice aside from gravelly, and he’s never seen Oliver like this. In charge, yes, but his eyes are almost black and he can tell even now that he’s holding back.

 

She moans, biting her lip with a quick nod and he knows she’s biting it to keep from speaking. This might be easy for some - but for Felicity, he knows not talking is torture. He moves to claim her lips, sliding his tongue in her mouth easily, the vodka she drank earlier in the night still present as he explores.

 

* * *

 

Her fists are clenching above her in restlessness, trying her best to not pay attention to her immobility. Tommy’s tongue is devouring her and she does her best to give back as good as she gets, knowing this is the only tool she has at her disposal right now.

 

Her mouth opens in a gasp as Tommy bites on the side of her lip and then she’s  _really_ moaning because Oliver’s own tongue has just hit her lower lips.  _Fuck_. She can feel him opening her pussy, his rough tongue sliding up and down torturously slow as he teases her.  _Oliver was right. She really hadn’t known what she was signing up for tonight. But there was no mistaking that she was up for it. Loving it, truly._

 

His voice surprises her, a grunt echoing in the silence. “Fuck, ‘licity you are absolutely dripping for us.”

 

She is. She’s never been this turned on in her life, she’s pretty sure. She feels him resume, he’s tracing the letters of the alphabet against her inner lips and she bites down hard on Tommy’s lip in an effort to control herself from lifting her lips.

 

He growls lightly in her ear, his hand moving to pull her hair, lips moving back to the side of her throat. “Play nice, Felicity. You’re not in charge tonight. You gotta be good for us.” Oliver has just sped up beneath her and her mouth opens in a small keen, both men’s actions bringing her to the edge.

 

Oliver’s lapping at her, suckling almost to the point of pain before he pulls back completely. She’s out of her mind, close to protesting before it hits her.  _Fuck. Is this the game? Bringing her back and back to the edge, never letting her tumble over it?_

 

She groans.  _Tonight is going to be a long night._

 

* * *

 

Oliver pulls back, licking his lips to take in her juices from his lips. _Heavenly, as usual._  His cock is straining against his pants painfully and for a second, he wants to smack himself. When he started this game, he hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to pull back before getting to see her fall apart around him. But he breathes in, strengthening his resolve.

 

He shucks his pants to the side, wrapping his hand around his length, stroking lightly up and down. He’s trying to relieve some of the pressure, trying to stave himself off.

 

He watches Tommy move off her to ditch his own pants, takes in his arousal straining up, can see - even from here - the precum accumulating at the tip.

 

Waiting a second, letting Felicity come down from the edge, he leans over the bed to pull the other man to his lips, sharing the taste of her with him. Tommy groans next to him, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. His arms are straining with the effort to keep himself held up over her body and he pulls away just in time to see Tommy’s hand moving towards her center. Watches a finger slip in and moves his lips to the side of his best friend’s neck, licking the sweat sitting on the top of his skin.

 

He can hear Felicity’s breathing speed up once again, and he renews his motions on Tommy’s neck, moving down to nip around his collarbone, his tongue dipping to lick in the hollowed space. Her moans increase and he figures that Tommy has added another finger - or two - into her sweet pussy below. He smiles against his shoulder before moving down deliberately, taking one quick and hard bite at his left nipple before pulling back.

 

Tommy’s breath shutters, his hips jerking forward automatically, a low, “Fuck, Oliver,” dropping from his lips. His fingers push into Felicity once, twice more, before pulling out - much to her dissatisfaction. He swipes the same fingers across Oliver’s lips before surging forward to claim them once again, sucking and biting at the taste of her coating Oliver’s lips.

 

They continue to duel, before Oliver can’t take another second of it. His cock is straining into Felicity’s side and he can feel her legs moving restlessly below him. The anticipation of sliding into her becoming too much to ignore. He pulls back, placing one last soft kiss on Tommy’s lips before moving down to Felicity’s. Ignores Tommy’s eyes, the pitch black desire blown out through his iris’s are too much right now, even for him.

 

He hovers over her, only a breath away, whispering. “I bet this is killing you, sweetheart. Knowing that we’re taking what we want without hesitation, but not following through, huh?” His lips continue to brush over hers, moving to the side of her jaw, placing a kiss there before coming back to her lips. “Here baby, have a little taste of yourself, mixed in with us,” he says as he lowers his mouth down to hers.

 

* * *

 

Tommy pants, his hand wrapped around his dick as he watches Oliver absolutely devour her.  _If he doesn’t come soon, he’s going to fucking lose his mind._

 

Then, Oliver’s pulling away, eyes closed and he watches as his best friend fights for his own control. Knows that it’s slipping, can see it in the tension of his shoulders. His eyes open then, locking with Tommy and he almost whimpers because _fuck._

 

He watches him move down to the bed, grabbing Felicity’s ankles as he prepares to enter her. Oliver lifts her right leg, placing a kiss against her ankle before using it to pull himself forward, his cock only inches from her center.

 

“I’m going to fuck you now, Felicity, hard. And you better not cum. It’s not your turn yet, do you understand?” _God, how did he do that?_

 

Felicity only has a second to nod before he watches Oliver enter her in a sharp thrust, moans falling from both of their lips as he slides home. Oliver pauses, steadying himself within her, allowing her to become accustom to his width before he starts to move in and out slowly.

 

Tommy, unable to sit still, stands up from the bed, moving behind Oliver. He’s running his hands up his waist, nails scratching lightly across his abs as they contract with effort. He listens to Oliver’s breath hitching and climbing faster as he speeds up within her. He places his mouth up and across Oliver’s shoulders, mapping out the indents of his muscles. _Oliver is truly beautiful._

 

He moves back up to his neck, placing playful bites along the sides and up to his ears. Oliver’s moans are becoming more frequent and he knows he’s at the edge. Wanting to take his turn in Felicity himself, he takes matters into his own hands. He bites down hard on the side of his neck while simultaneously reaching down, cupping Oliver’s sac. He can feel his balls clenching and then Oliver’s gone - releasing himself into her with a long moan and muttered,  _“Fuck, fuck.”_

 

* * *

 

Felicity’s thighs are quivering with the effort of not coming, her entire body lit up with arousal. She can barely  _think_  let alone control herself, but somehow she’s managed - so far. She’s close, though. Dangerously close. It’s taking everything within her not to beg. Knows tonight is not the time.

 

Oliver’s withdrawing from her, and another shudder wracks her body as he hits every spot within her on the way out. Her breath is leaving her in short pants and she prays,  _prays_  that she will be granted the opportunity to finish soon. Wishes she could see Oliver as he came down, something truly beautiful to watch and it was robbed from her. She is almost beginning to regret the game she began when his voice cuts through the room.

 

“You’ve been such a good girl for us tonight, Felicity. I think it might be time we allow you your release. What do you think, Tommy?”

 

Felicity’s nodding frantically, her hips straining against the bed. Oliver chuckles at the sight and turns to Tommy. He nods, unable to speak, just moves over to her taking his spot above her on the bed. He leans down, his lips grazing her ear. “You can cum, Felicity. But not until I say so. So hold on, babe.”

 

With that, he moves back and with a single push forward he is sheathed within her heat. His eyes rolling back in his head as he feels her clench around him and she is so fucking  _tight. And wet. She’s never been this wet before and it’s unbelievably sexy, knowing they’ve done this to her._

 

His hips begin to move slowly, he’s thrusting deep before pulling back all of the way and then repeating the motion. He wants to feel her completely and bring her to very tip of the edge before he allows her to plunder over it.

 

His eyes drift up, taking in Oliver, sitting off to the side, his dark eyes simply watching them from his spot of the room. He’s starting to stiffen again and he rips his eyes away from him, unable to believe his recovery time - unable to see that right now. He moves his attention back to the beautiful woman below him, continuing to thrust, speeding up in his rush to oblivion.

 

He continues on for what feels like hours but can only be minutes when he feels the tale-tell sign of his own balls tightening. His hand reaches down, sliding into her folds as he pauses, “Felicity, baby, come,  _now_ ,” and he pinches down on her clit.

 

She loses it with a scream, her walls clenching down impossibly tight around him and he lets go at the same time, releasing into her as they both rock into each other forcefully. The sound of their panting and his balls pushing against her are the only sounds that fill the room as they come down. After a few final seconds, he pulls out, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her lips and ripping the blindfold from her face.

 

Her eyes are almost drugged, hazy and shining with contentment as she smiles up at him. “That was amazing,” she breathes out.

 

“We’re not finished with you yet, sweetheart.” Her head whips to the side where Oliver is sitting, his dark eyes lighting her up again and she smirks back at him, not taking his threat lying down.

 

“Bring it, baby.”


	2. Untitled ; Tattoo Artist!Oliver AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After years of wanting a tattoo, Felicity finally rolls the dice. She wasn't expecting the tattoo artist.

She was nervous. This had been a long time coming for her, after all.

She had wanted a tattoo for what seemed like forever, but there had always been something holding her back.

If it wasn’t a friend or family member’s disapproval, it was her own nagging doubt, pulling the strings and making her wonder if it was a good choice. If it was the smart choice.

_Screw smart choices_ , she thinks. She’s over them.

_Felicity Smoak is ready for some questionable choices. (She thinks she is)._

Whether or not, she’s already here and she’s not going to back down.

Everyone would expect her to back down.

Looking at the sign above her, the green letters glow vibrantly back at her.  _Verdant Ink._

Her best friend Sara had been the one to recommend the shop after her own visit.

She remembers Sara’s glowing enthusiasm and excitement once she had come back to their shared apartment. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of her small tattoo for hours.

_“Felicity, it was such a rush! Everyone was so nice there, they really make you feel like you belong. And my tattoo artist? Whew - what a fine specimen of man he was. If I wasn’t with Nyssa… let me tell you. You can’t go anywhere else, honestly.”_

She had rolled her eyes at the time. Sara always had a flair for the dramatic and she had never believed she would actually be here. Ready to get a tattoo.

In the end, her colossal fuck up with Cooper had been the final tipping point to making some real changes. What had she been thinking?

Everything had seemed great in the beginning. Not that she had much experience to go by.

He hadn’t been her first boyfriend by any means, but he had definitely been the first guy to really get close to her. To break through some of the walls that had been built by her father leaving.

And she had paid the price. Walking in on him and that brunette  _bitch_  had crumpled her for a few days. Not her proudest moment.

But then she had just gotten mad. Pissed off, really.

The subsequent failure of his entire computer server had been the first item she had accomplished in what she had coined  _The Collapse of Cooper._  Tacky, she knows, but you got the gist of it.

Once she had finished off his pride and joy, she had moved on to a few…  _embarrassing_ things - namely putting up some uncomfortable pictures on the web and then anonymously texting the girl he had cheated on her with that he had Chlamydia.

So, it was kind of childish. But that last one  _still_  made her smile.

Really, she had gone kind of easy on him, if you asked her.

But she was over it. Once she had taken her revenge, she had realized that her and Cooper had never really belonged together. They had some similar interests and they got along well, but there was no excitement. No passion.

She had been coasting through life with the same feeling for as long as she could remember.

At twenty three years of age, she had never done anything crazy. _Unless you counted that one weed brownie in college, but that was embarrassingly mild._

No, she was on a mission to bring on the new Felicity Smoak.

She wanted to take life by the horns and go all out for once in her life. No more taking the safe route.

The first item of business in that transformation had been a wardrobe makeover. Well, not total makeover - she really liked her panda flats, okay?

Sara had dragged her up and down the mall, grabbing one short skirt after another. The clothes got tighter and tighter as the day wore on and after the leather pants - she had to put a pause on the clothing mission.

That pause had translated into the Victoria’s Secret portion of their trip.

She can’t deny it - she had a lot of fun there. That was one area that she had never had issue with exploring. Her closet was now flowing with black and red lace and she loved it.

After the wardrobe extension, she had been dragged around town to nightclub after nightclub for a week. Sara and Nyssa had taken it upon themselves to find her a one night stand. After a few nights of consistently turning down man after man sent her way, she had finally put an end to that one.

_“Felicity, don’t you know the saying? The only way to get over someone is to get under somebody else! It’s classic break-up 101.” Sara whined._

_“But I’m already over Cooper! So why do I have to go find some other idiot guy who probably won’t know his way around my g-spot to spend one drunken night with?” She countered._

_“I can’t argue with that, I mean that’s part of the reason I switched teams. But c’mon! I thought you wanted to be crazy-new-Smoak? Changing your wardrobe isn’t crazy, Felicity. It was long overdue, really.”_

_“Bitch!”_

_“Felicity, all I’m saying is that if you want to try new things - you’ve actually gotta try new things. You know I’m just here to support you.”_

She did know that and Sara had been right. A one night stand from a drunken club was just not what Felicity had in mind.

That was what brought her to Verdant’s front door.

She hadn’t even told Sara she was going. She was going to surprise her and rejoice in the stunned look and disbelief she knew would come her way. She just had to go inside and go through with it.

_I can do this, I can do this. I want to do this._

Taking a deep breath, she twisted the door handle and pulled it open.

A quiet bell chimed above her as she walked in.

It was late - close to closing time and there was no activity in the front of the shop. For a second she worried that they were closed, but she could hear movement in the back and finally, a muffled “Be right there!”.

Releasing the breath she hadn’t known she was holding, she took the opportunity to observe the shop.

She isn’t sure what the typical tattoo parlor looks like - but she doesn’t think it’s this.

The walls are a mix of brick and muted greys, with green accents throughout. It’s understated and classy, and she appreciates it. It’s not quite the ostentatious red and cheesy chinese accents that she had been expecting.

There’s a series of painted art on the walls - landscape sceneries of Starling, she thinks. They’re absolutely beautiful and she can’t help but walk up to take a closer look.

She’s so entranced by the art that she misses the footsteps leading up behind her - doesn’t realize anyone is there until she hears his voice.

“What do you think?”

“Yeoow-!” She startles. Turning around, the sound is lost in her throat as she meets the incredibly blue eyes of the man standing in front of her.

Frack. He is  _gorgeous_.

She’s not even quite sure that the word gorgeous encompasses what is standing in front of her.

She knows this is kind of corny, but he’s kind of… ruggedly perfect? His sandy blonde hair is messy and in disarray, like he’s been running his hands through it all day. She imagines her own hands pulling at his soft strands.

He’s scruffy, and her mind immediately pictures him between her legs, how his scruff would feel between her thighs. She blushes with the thought. _This is so unlike me._

Despite her decomposure, she continues her perusal. He’s wearing a tight white t-shirt and she can see he’s very well-built. His arms alone are straining to burst from his sleeves which do little to hide the sprawling ink across his skin.  _Glorious, glorious ink._

Both arms are coated - a half-sleeve on the right and one full-sleeve down his left arm. They’re black and white and she can feel a rush of heat wash over her skin as she takes in the designs curved around his muscles.

_Who knew tattoos were such a fucking turn on?_

A throat clearing brings her back to her surroundings.

_Oh god, how long have I just been staring at him? You are such a freak Smoak!_

She thanks whatever god there may be that she chose to wear the leather pants tonight. She needed the confidence and she knows her ass looks fantastic in them.

“Hi! I’m sorry, what did you say? It’s kind of late and I’m tired and I think I’m just going to… stop talking now.”

The small smile that had been playing around his lips turns into a full fledged grin and  _what the fuck? How does he keep getting more attractive?_

“You were staring at the art - my art - do you like it?”

Her eyes widen and she turns back towards the wall, putting two together. “Oh! Wow, this is yours? I guess that shouldn’t really be much of a surprise, you are an artist, after all.”

He chuckles and she can feel the blood rushing behind her face.  _Pull it together, Smoak._

“What I’m trying to say is, yes, it’s amazing, really. I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve never really seen any part of Starling look like this. You’ve really turned it into something beautiful.”

His response is a hum of some sort, and he’s looking at her like he’s trying to figure something out.  _Probably how he let someone so crazy come into his shop._

“Thanks, ... ?” He’s fishing for her name.

“Felicity. Smoak.”

“Thanks, Felicity. I’m Oliver.”

\-----------

Oliver hasn’t prayed in a long, long time.

But he is praying this girl is here to be inked by him.

Typically tattoo artists dread working with virgin skin. It’s a touchy field to navigate and they are notoriously difficult clients. It’s a new experience and everyone handles it differently.

Some are easy clients - those are the ones you know fall in love with the process and typically have at least one more tattoo within the next year.

Then there are the difficult clients. The ones who come to get a tattoo because they think it’s trendy - they don’t take it seriously. The ones who don’t realize there is some pain involved and that this is permanent. The ones who take it too seriously and want to control every aspect of it - and while he can’t blame them, it is their body after all - you have to afford your artist some space and some trust - or it’s just never going to work out.

But he took one look at this girl and he knows he wants his hands all over her. Wants to mark her with his own signature.

_That’s barbaric as fuck, even for you Queen._

She isn’t his usual type.

She’s young, and at first glance she fits into the “innocent girl, rebelling against her parents with a new tattoo” stereotype.

But those leather pants.  _Fuck._ There is nothing innocent about those pants.

They’re practically painted onto her skin and Oliver’s been half hard since he put eyes on her.

Then she opened her mouth and she was…  _cute._

He certainly hadn’t used that word to describe a girl other than his sister in a long time.

Listening to her babble, he hasn’t been able to wipe the smile off his face and he knows he’s going to do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn’t leave his shop without his ink on her somewhere.

She’s just gotten done telling him she thinks his art is beautiful and he has to physically cross his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out and touching her.

He follows the movement of her eyes to his arms and he knows she’s interested. At least in the ink.

“So, Felicity, what brings you to my shop?”

_Fucking say it. Please._

\-----------

She knows he asked a question, but every time his body moves, even an inch, her eyes are drawn to the rippling of his muscles and the play of his tattoos.

She makes out a ship and compass riding up one side, some words thrown in the mix here and there. She’s dying to know what and why and well, pretty much everything about them. About him.

He intrigues her.

It’s an unusual feeling.

Her past boyfriends have been computer nerds like herself. A mathlete here and there.

Oliver is something completely different.

“I’m here for a tattoo. Obviously. I know what I want but I didn’t bring in a picture of it and, shit, I’m thinking I probably should have done that right?”

He’s still smiling and she thinks he knows it’s only making her more nervous.

“No, that’s okay. Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll sketch something up for you?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, turning around to grab a small sketchpad lying on the counter nearby. He grabs two stools, taking a seat in one himself and spinning the other out to her with a nod.

“Oh, okay, great!” She takes a seat herself, trying to ignore the effect his proximity is having upon her. His next move, reaching out and pulling her stool closer to him, does not help.

“Come closer, Felicity. I don’t bite.” He winks smoothly at her and her mouth parts slightly before she realizes what a complete idiot she must look like.

“Uhh, right. Well, here’s what I was thinking. A pair of geometric dice, maybe in water color?  I’d like them to look as though they’re being thrown in motion and landing with a five and a four.”

He nods, the pencil in his hand already beginning to move in swift strokes across the paper.

“Where are we putting it?”

“On my right side, across the ribs. Under my bra, I guess.”

His eyes look up at her quickly, and she swears they’re three shades darker than they were before.

It hits her then that she’ll have to take her shirt off for this tattoo. She’s going to be shirtless, alone, with him.

_Please give me the strength to get through this. I won’t hack anyone’s computer. For at least a week._

He looks for a beat longer before his head moves back down, continuing to sketch. She sits nervously in silence until he speaks, never taking his eyes off the paper in front of him.

“So, what’s the story behind this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shakes her head dismissively, waving a hand, before realizing he can’t see her. “No, it’s fine. It’s kind of silly. Well, I’m from Vegas, grew up there and everything. And no, before you ask, it’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. Y’know, long story short… my dad left my mom and I there and it was difficult for awhile. She was a cocktail waitress so we didn’t really have a lot and I had to really work to make something of myself. So, for me I guess this tattoo is a way of reminding myself where I came from and how far I’ve come since then… And a reminder to shake things up every once in awhile. Make your own luck. Or something. It’s kind of stupid, right?”

Looking over at him, she realizes his eyes are locked on hers and she finds herself unable to leave his gaze.

“No, it’s not. Everyone has a story, Felicity and it’s not up to me or anyone else to decide whose story is valid. It’s your story. Yours. So, it’s important.”

She smiles then, feeling truly content with her choice for the first time. _Someone who finally gets it. Or he’s just trying to make me feel good about this tattoo I’m paying for him to give me. Either way, I’ll go with it._

“Thanks, Oliver.”

He winks at her again, before leaning back down to finish off the sketch.

He really needs to stop doing that. For her sanity.

\-----------

When he finishes the sketch, her reaction takes him by surprise.

It’s a small tattoo, and it won’t take him any time at all. Inconsequential in the scheme of his day.

But the way her face lights up when she sees it makes him more excited to complete a tattoo than one has in a while.

The fact that she’s going to be shirtless in front of him, his hands on her side, working his gun - well, those are just the icing on the cake.

He tells her to take off her shirt and get comfortable while he goes to his station to prepare the transfer paper so they can place the outline.

He takes his time, knowing he’s going to need a second to himself to prepare.

He wants to shake himself - he’s been doing this for years. Hundreds of faceless women in various levels of undress - much more so than she will be - and still, something about her has him on edge.

He just fucking wants this girl. There’s no denying it.

Moving back into the room, he takes in the scene in front of him. She’s standing there in those fucking leather pants and a black lacy bra and how the hell is he supposed to concentrate with this? His pants feel tighter and he clears his throat, bringing her attention to him.

“Right. Well, I’ll give you a quick run down of the process. First, we’ll place the outline onto your side so you can see where it will go and a rough idea of how it will come together. As long as that looks good, then we’ll lie you down and get started. You picked the ribs, which can be a little bit more painful than other areas but the good news is that the piece is small and I’m very good at what I do.”

“I’m ready.” She nods assuredly and he can’t help but smile back.

“Ok, great. Lets get started.”

He works quickly and quietly, transferring the outline onto her and ensuring the correct placement. Once she nods her approval, she takes her place on his chair while he begins prepping the rest of his equipment.

His gun fires up and he immediately feels like he can breathe again. The sound is calming to him and he finally feels like he has found his center - tattooing is second nature to him. He truly loves it - finds peace in it.

Quickly and efficiently, he shaves the small hairs on her side and cleans the area, sanitizing and prepping it. Her skin pebbles with his touch and he can feel the saliva pooling in his mouth.

_Snap out of it, Queen. Christ you’re like a blushing virgin again._

He begins then - moving his gun to press into her lightly, tracing up the outline from the transfer and trying to gauge her reaction to the pressure.

Her eyes tighten almost imperceptibly, but she stays quiet and he’s impressed. She’s clearly tougher than she looks. He has seen grown men react in ten shades of pain and she is lightyears ahead of them.

For an hour he works, letting the process of creating his art take him away. His gun slides up and down her skin, his other hand wiping away the excess ink and fluids. He repeats those steps over and over as the tattoo begins to take shape on her tanned skin.

Finishing the last touches of color, he adds some extra shading here and there before he wipes off the fluids for one last time.

“All done.”

\-----------

The sound of his voice breaking through the shop is the first sound she’s heard in over an hour and she jerks in surprise, not realizing her eyes had slid shut as he worked.

She’s surprised he’s finished so quickly, the time had flown by as the methodological sound of the machine had lulled her into a peaceful state.

Opening her eyes, the bright light of the shop blinds her momentarily and she blinks, adjusting. She sees Oliver taking his gloves off slowly to her right, reaching for a small hand mirror to hold over her side.

He points it down and her mouth parts in a small gasp, seeing his work for the first time. It’s simple and small, but colorful and she absolutely loves it.

“Wow, Oliver. It’s perfect.”

She can’t pull her eyes away from it.

But then Oliver’s hand grazes over her side, lightly trailing over her and her eyes move up to him finally.

His blue irises stare back at her and she feels the temperature in the room rise a few notches.

Without thinking, her mouth opens.

“Kiss me”, she whispers.  _Oh my god, what am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?_

He blinks, once, twice, staring at her blankly - uncomprehending.

“Kiss. Me.” She repeats, more forcefully.  _Fuck it. I want this - want him. I’m throwing caution to the wind and taking something I want for once. Who says it has to be in a darkened club?_

He blinks back at her again, slowly, and she worries that she’s about to get turned down in a rather embarrassing manner.

But he doesn’t speak.

He leans to his left, grabbing a small piece of cloth and surgical tape. Turning back to her, he doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he carefully applies the items around the new ink on her side. He pats it down softly, his tongue sliding over his lips to wet them.

He moves then, tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth and then capturing her mouth with his own. His tongue slips in, twisting with her own as he moves, pushing the tattoo gun and equipment out of the way and settling on top of her. 

He pulls back, face burying in the crook of her neck and she feels his tongue and teeth nipping and sucking at her neck. She knows he’s going to leave a mark, another one of his marks, and she cannot deny the thought thrills her.

His body his hard and lean against her own and she trails her hands up and down his arms, tracing the ink she’s been dying to get her hands on all night.

She can’t believe she’s doing this but it feels so good she can’t stop.

She’s letting go and it’s exhilarating.

His hands run up and down her sides, and she withers and trembles beneath him at the feel of his rough hands on her heated skin.

He pulls back suddenly, and she gasps - the protests on the tip of her tongue. But his hands are reaching for the clasp of her leather pants, pulling them and her underwear down simultaneously.

She idly thinks he might be a little too good at that.

The cold of the shop causes her to shiver and she whimpers when Oliver begins trailing kisses up the insides of her legs, his breath thick and warm as it moves towards her center.

She’s not cold anymore.

He settles his hips between her open legs, only giving her a second to breathe before he is leaning down to slide his tongue from top to bottom of her pussy. His tongue teases her clit and her hands shoot down to tangle in his hair.

Her head falls back as he licks and sucks at her, feeling the wetness flood his tongue. She can’t help but rub herself against his mouth and when he slips a finger inside, she cries out - unable to keep the sound inside of her any longer.

A second finger joins in and her hips buck, her fingers pulling stronger at his hair. “Oliver!”

His blue eyes are wild as he stares up at her from her center, and his hands reach out to steady her hips as he continues to suck around her clit. One more flick and she falls, exploding around his tongue and she’s jelly in his hands.

\-----------

He watches her as she tries to catch her breathe, head rolled back, eyes closed in satisfaction.

She’s breathtaking.

His dick is positively aching. He’s never been so hard in his life.

She had surprised him when she came onto him. He really had not been expecting that from her.

Looks can be deceiving.

None of the other women, no - girls, no matter how experienced, could compare to her.

He suspects this is about her own ‘freedom, life experience’ shit but he feels like the liberated one here.

“Wow.” She finally sighs above him.

He can’t contain the smug grin as he stares up at her, her juice still coating his lips.

He licks them purposefully, eyeing her down and taking delight in the blush that steals across her face.

He loves that she can blush even after what just happened between them.

_Oh babe, I’m just getting started._

\-----------

The man was talented with his tongue. Beyond talented.

She was blissed out and she wanted more.

The sultry smirk on his face as he licks his lips ignites a new fire within her, even as she blushes.

Her hands reach out for him just as he moves up towards her. His lips venturing slowly up her body, finding their new home at her breasts.

She sucks in a quick intake of air and feels his hair tickle her skin as his lips graze her nipples.

His mouth his hot and wet and her thighs are rubbing together, seeking the friction she wants - needs so badly. She pulls at his hair as his hands slide down her flesh. His lips tease in the most delicious way and his teeth on her nipples send zaps of electricity straight down to her core.

Just as a rough moan leaves her, he effortlessly lifts her off her off her back and has her straddling him in seconds.

Oliver’s hand plunges down the front of her panties and a single finger slips inside, teasing her and slicking it back and forth over her sensitive clit.

Her breath hitches and a low curse leaves her lips as he brings up his glistening finger to his lips and slowly, achingly slowly, sticks his tongue out to taste her arousal.

“You taste so fucking good, ‘licity. I can’t get enough of you.” His tone is gritty and it’s so fucking sexy she feels like she is going to burst.

Without thinking, she attacks him, claiming his lips frantically - unable to hold back any longer. The taste of herself on his lips only spurs her on more. She presses her heat against his cock and he immediately bucks up into her, pulling another cry from her lips.

He pulls back once again, his lips resuming their torture on her nipples and she digs her nails through his hair, rubbing herself against him.

“Fuck me, Oliver,” she begs. “Please, right now - I need you, now.”

A strangled moan leaves his lips, the sound setting her on fire and causing a new wave of wetness to seep from her. “Fuck yeah, baby. Whatever you want.” 

His voice is strained and she can feel him slip a hand between their bodies, freeing himself from the confines of his boxers and jeans.

His fingers tease at her entrance, sliding up and down and spreading her arousal before his cock takes place of them. He moves, sliding it up and down her slit in a teasing manner, and she wants to cry out with frustration.

Her hands settle on his shoulders, sliding down his chest as she stares into his eyes, begging him. _Now, Oliver. Please_.

Oliver’s own eyes stare back into hers, black with arousal and she arches her back, pulling him in impossibly closer.

He uses one arm to balance himself over her and with the other, slowly eases himself into her. Her mouth parts in a silent gasp and his forehead presses to hers right before he suddenly rams home.

Oliver grunts as he pushes inside and fuck he feels so good inside of her. He stays there, unmoving for a beat, waiting for her to get her bearings. She looks up at him, nodding imperceptibly and letting him know it’s okay to move.

His fingers dig into her sides and her thighs rise up to wrap around his hips, tightening as they build a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, Felicity. Your pussy is so tight. So wet. Fuck. Do you like that? The way my cock is stretching you?”

He’s more vocal than anyone she’s ever been with and not for the first time she finds herself wanting more of it.

Her legs squeeze and tremor around him and she spurs him on. “Mhm, yes. Harder, Oliver.”

She doesn’t have to ask twice.

He lifts her leg up higher, sliding in deeper, and bringing their hips flush against one another.

Her moans are getting increasingly louder as her chest lifts up and down with exertion. Her hands wrap around Oliver’s neck, holding him close to her and he begins thrusting at a faster pace.

She can’t believe how perfect he feels inside of her - her entire body is flushed, she can feel the sweat dripping down between their bodies and it’s single handedly the sexiest moment of Felicity’s life.

His mouth descends upon hers, raising her chin to accept him and his tongue slips in quickly, mimicking the dance happening below. After a while he pulls away, pulling her legs higher up around him and she watches his jaw tighten, knows the pressure is getting harder for him to ignore, just as it is for her.

“Shit. I never thought it could feel like this. I can’t believe…” The words die on his lips as he begins slamming into her harder and she can feel the mind blowing orgasm building up higher and higher. Her fingernails dig into his thighs as he speeds up, the sound of their flesh slapping against one another the only noise in the empty shop.

“Oliver, I’m going to, I’m right there.”

“Me too,” he grunts.

She watches the play of his muscles, the dim lights hitting them at just the right angle, almost bringing his tattoos to life.

Her body feels like it’s vibrating and just as her toes start to tingle, she squeezes down, her internal muscles squeezing tight around his cock, taking him in deeper and she’s gone, undulating underneath him.

A strangled moan leaves him as he pushes into her once, twice more - stilling for a pause before he shakes above her and then collapses slowly on top of her.

They lay still for minutes, catching their breath and enjoying their shared weight. Oliver pulls back after a while, leaning down to capture her lips with his own again and she smiles into the kiss with satisfaction.

_Felicity - 1. Smart choices - 0._


	3. body in the air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity meet at the airport.

If you asked Felicity how she had ended up 30,000 feet in the air with a stranger’s fingers embedded deep inside of her, she wouldn’t be able to answer you.

 

It wasn’t because she didn’t know how it had happened - she knew that just fine.

 

But because said stranger currently had two fingers plunged deep inside of her, rocketing in and out as his thumb caressed her clit. So no, she couldn’t answer you. The only _somewhat_ rational thought she had before the pleasure overtook her was that the cheap, wool blanket the airline provided was probably doing a piss-poor job of concealing his hand.

 

She didn’t care.

 

\-------------

 

_3 hours previous_

 

Felicity groaned, switching her ridiculously heavy carry-on from one shoulder to the other. She knew, just knew, she’d end up regretting her poor packing choices from the previous night. So what if she didn’t trust airlines? If you asked her, they were shady organizations and the baggage handlers could not be trusted. Hence, expensive and heavy electronics went into her carry-on. If only her back could understand that.

 

Trudging into the gate area, she almost moaned in pleasure as she spotted the lone open seat near one of the power centers. _It was the twenty-first century - why were there not more of these spread throughout airports?_ Clutching her phone, which had been frighteningly low on battery for the past twenty minutes, she sped up in anticipation of finally sitting down and getting it charged back to life.

 

In what felt like only seconds before reaching the seat, an older man slowly descended into it and she just barely bit back the angry groan she could feel rising up in her throat. _Stop it. He needs it more than you do._ She knew that, she did. It didn’t stop the frustration from heating her skin, though. Her shoulders were _killing_ her and if she had to spend the five hour flight to Boston without a cell phone, she was not going to be a happy camper.

 

_I’m a millennial. Sue me._

A throat clearing to the right brought her out of her somewhat red-induced haze. Looking over at the source, her breath caught in her throat. He was so… _pretty._ Okay, pretty was definitely not the word to describe him, but he truly was so attractive that Felicity felt the day’s frustrations seeping out of her in an almost embarrassingly emotional way.

 

Standing _at least_ six foot tall, he was truly a sight to behold. His dark blonde hair was cropped short on the sides, with the center pieces standing taller and slightly shaggy. _The perfect length to grab onto._ His blue eyes were sharp and somewhat mischievous - he looked like someone who spent a good amount of time smiling. Laughing. She liked that.

 

And his body? Forget about it.

 

Her tongue felt heavy and with a jolt she realized she had been staring like an idiot at a man she didn’t even know. His eyes crinkled slightly in amusement, mouth tilted to the side as he watched her watch him. _Oops. I guess you weren’t so subtle there, Smoak._

 

“I’m just getting up, and it looks like you could stand to take a load off. Would you like my seat?” His voice was low, but held a hint of mirth and she was momentarily taken aback by her struggle between appreciating his kindness and wanting to sock him right in the jaw for assuming anything about her.

 

She considered declining for a split second - just to throw him off his game (and he certainly looked like someone with _a lot_ of game) - but her shoulder _really_ did hurt and the flight was longer than should be allowed - she needed her electronics to be charged.

 

Forcing a polite smile, she nodded at him. “Thanks, I really would. I went a little overboard on the packing, you know you can never trust the airlines not to steal or lose your luggage, and my friend Iris dropped me off at the wrong terminal so I’ve been walking for a longer than average amount of time and this guy in front of me -,” the gentle hand on her shoulder cut her tirade off immediately and she found herself smiling genuinely at him for stopping her.

 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. You don’t want or need my life story and I hope I didn’t just talk you out of giving up your seat for me.”

 

Surprisingly he laughed, the sound warming her from the inside.

 

“No, not at all. It just looked like you needed to take a breath and for a second I worried you might forget to do so. The seat is all yours. It was a pleasure to meet you… ?” His voice trailed off and she fought the blush rising in her cheeks.

 

“Felicity.”

 

He smiled again and she wondered how someone could seem so happy all of the time. “Felicity. It was nice to meet you.” And with a wink, he was gone. He didn’t even give his name.

 

Taking a seat in the newly abandoned space, she shook her head in slight wonder.  

 

Settling her bag down on the floor, she didn’t try to fight the audible sigh that rose in her throat at the pleasure getting off her feet afforded. She allowed herself a minute to massage her shoulder before realizing her flight was due to board in only thirty minutes and she really needed to get power into her phone and tablet.

 

Plugging both into an outlet to her left, she allowed herself to relax in the plastic seat, her mind wandering back to the extremely attractive stranger that had vacated it for her.

 

If she was being honest with herself, he probably had been planning to get up from the get-go;  he had disappeared somewhere into the terminal immediately after saying goodbye to her, afterall. But still, she allowed herself to warm in appreciation of an attractive man doing something nice for her. Sadly, it seemed like it had been awhile since she could say it had occurred.

 

She hadn’t dated anyone in what felt like months. The last man she had dated, Ray, had been so woefully inadequate in both personality and in the bedroom, she had been left feeling lonelier afterwards than she had before ever entering the relationship - if you could even call it that.

 

She was _frustrated_. There was no other way around it. Her vibrator just was not cutting it anymore. Any night she found herself with open time, she laid in bed hoping, praying, it would be the night she could finally bring herself up and over that edge and every night, she was left feeling more and more frustrated.

 

Closing her eyes, she felt the need to drop her head against a wall.

 

_I need a drink. Or three._

 

\-------------

 

Getting comfortable in her oversized seat, Felicity sighed happily. In her haste to get through security and the hassle of lugging her bag with her, she had almost forgotten that her company had decided to put her up in first class. She could kiss her boss or whoever had signed off on that expense. _Except, not really, because kissing her boss would be really weird. Why can’t I shut up, even in my own mind?_

 

Luckily the stewardess began making her way down the business class aisle to take drink orders - reminding her of her increasingly urgent need for some mental down time.

 

Her seat being in the last row of business class meant she had a few minutes to decide on what she wanted. Pulling the drink slip out of seat pocket in front of her, she read for a brief second before shaking her head. She almost always, always, ordered red wine. Why she pretended to consider anything else was beside her.

 

The jostling in the seat next to her pulled her attention away from the menu and she looked over to assess her flight neighbor only to gasp softly. It was _him_. She hadn’t even gotten his name earlier but he had certainly left an impression.

 

Settling into the seat, even the oversized business class option, his frame seemed large. His shoulders were unimaginably broad and she shook her head, smiling at him briefly before forcing her gaze back to the paper menu in her hands. _Maybe I need something stronger than wine this time._

 

“Hey! How about that. Felicity, right?”

 

Her heart skipped in his remembrance of her name and she shot him a happy smile. “That’s me. Felicity. And I don’t believe I ever got your name?”

 

He held his hand out to her and she felt her own falling into his without a second thought. He gripped it softly, a slight squeeze. “I’m Oliver. Oliver Queen.”

 

\-------------

 

It turned out that Oliver Queen was the CEO of a highly reputable technology-based firm on the West Coast, one she was quite familiar with. Admitting she worked in the same industry, they had fallen into an easy rapport almost immediately.

 

_“CEO, huh? At such a young age, you’re very impressive. I mean, that’s very impressive. Your job. Not you. Because I wouldn’t know that.”_

_Oliver’s eyes sparkled back at her._

_“I think I’m finding out just how impressive you are, Felicity.”_

 

Clutching the rum and coke in her hand, _rum and coke - could you believe it? She certainly couldn’t,_ she forced herself to keep her gaze on his face while he spoke animatedly about the Starling City Rockets. Felicity was not into sports, at all, but his enthusiasm shone through every pore of his body and he was _seriously_ cute. _Gorgeous._

 

_“Donaldson has had 4 home runs in the past week. The man is on fire, Felicity. We’re heading into the playoffs just over .600. Our season is spectacular.” He said._

_“I have no idea what any of that means.” She laughed._

_Rubbing his chin in mock-thoughtfulness, he raised an eye at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll make a Rockets fan out of you yet, Smoak.”_

 

_"As long as you don't try to buy me one of those horrible jerseys, Queen."_

 

But that really was not why she was fighting to keep her eyes on his face.

 

For the past hour and a half, Oliver had proven he was an animated talker on almost every subject. Whether it had been business, personal speculations or now his love for all things baseball, his hands had been flying in front of her face the entire time.

 

 _And god did he have nice hands._ They were so _big,_ his fingers long and sinewy. They looked roughened from use but his casual touches throughout their conversation had proven that they were still relatively soft, and she remembers the brief connections between their skin sending zaps of electricity throughout her.

 

She needed to pull herself together. There were still hours to go on this flight and she couldn’t sit here in a puddle the entire time. Shaking her vision, she realized he had gone silent and was staring at her amusedly, laughing softly to himself.

 

Her eyes widened and her thoughts scrambled to catch up. _Did she have something on her face? Did she say all of that out loud?!_

Wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye, his other hand on his chest, he fought to stop from chuckling. “You did say all of that out loud and fuck if that wasn’t the funniest thing I’ve heard in awhile.”

 

Catching his breath, her heart clenched again because he was so frustratingly handsome she was beginning to get pissed off. _Yeah, cause that made sense, Smoak._

 

Wiggling his eyebrows at her, she groaned in realization that her mind-to-mouth filter was still running amuk. “I’m handsome and have nice, big hands? You’re going to blow my ego out of the water here soon, Felicity.”

 

Putting her head in her hands she fought the laugh that was bubbling out of her, but couldn’t. “Shut up.” She groaned halfheartedly.

 

“Never.” He replied, winking, the amusement and smug satisfaction still shining through clearly on his face.

 

Rolling her eyes, she raised her drink to her lips, draining it quickly. When would she ever learn?

 

After a few minutes, she was able to pull him off of the subject and they fell back into the easy comfort of conversation. Because it really was easy - talking to him about anything. He had an easy-going and soft way about him, even when he was gently ribbing on her or making a dirty joke, it always felt like he had a grip on what was appropriate and what would upset her. It was nice.

 

And it was on those last thoughts and the gentle hum of the plane that she felt herself dripping off into sleep.

 

\-------------

 

A soft jolt of turbulence lifted the fog of sleep and she pushed her head into the soft pillow she was leaning against. Her entire body felt warm and she smiled, tightening the blanket around herself, relaxed and ready to let herself drop back down into sleep.

 

It was a few seconds later, after the second bout of turbulence, that she remembered where she was - and that she did not have a pillow or blanket with her when she had boarded the plane. Her mind tried to play catch up.

 

_Plane on the way to Boston. The attractive man giving up his seat for her - Oliver. Oliver was next to her. Oliver was probably the solid mass she was embarrassingly leaning against in her sleep. God, what if she had drooled on him? Oliver’s hand warm and heavy upon her thigh._

_Wait, what?_

 

Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked, expecting it to be bright but finding herself enveloped in the dark. She must’ve been out longer than she had thought. Then again, the plane had left around 5pm on the West Coast and they were racing against the sun.

 

She felt the heavy warmth on her thigh begin to move, and she held her breath as rough fingers slid slowly up and down her leg, remembering what had brought her out of sleep in the first place. Chancing it, she began to slowly adjust herself in the seat, not really wanting to look him in the face, but knowing it was needed.

 

The strong grip on her thigh stopped her in her tracks, and she felt him leaning down, his warm breath washing over her ear and making her shiver despite the warmth the blanket around them afforded.

 

“Good morning, Felicity. Or should I say good evening?” His mouth was so close, she could feel the movement of his lips against her ear and she gulped, feeling herself tighten almost immediately, the ache ramping up below. _It had really been a long time and he was so… just so._

 

“I hope you had a nice nap. Unfortunately, you drifted off rather quickly and left me all alone, without anyone to talk to for almost two hours. I’ve had a lot of time with my thoughts… which included my large, rough fingers and where they could be best put to good use.”

 

_Oh my god._

 

_But they couldn’t. Could they? They were in public, on a plane - dozens of people around them._

But looking around the dark cabin, she realized the majority of those around them were dozing, and the business class cabin provided an air of privacy that they would not have received had they been further behind in the plane. His hand did feel really good though, and she needed this, deserved this. _Right?_

She nodded slowly, still leaning against his shoulder - knowing he would understand with the simple movement.

 

“Unbutton your pants, Felicity.” He said softly, his voice remaining low in her ear, only for her to hear.

 

Feeling herself dampen, she swore softly under her breath, her hands immediately going to the button of her jeans.

 

Sliding the zipper down, she could practically feel his satisfaction with her, with her easy acceptance of his plans, and she warmed further.

 

“That’s good, baby. Now push your pants down, just enough, yeah,” his voice deepened, his lips brushing the soft spot behind her ear and she felt the heat threaten to overwhelm her as she did as instructed.

 

_Fuck, he hadn’t even touched her yet and she was already dripping._

Pushing the pants down just slightly over the swell of her hips, his hand was between her legs before she could even blink and she barely, _just barely_ , bit back the moan on the edge of her tongue.

 

Oliver cupped her, his warm, strong hand solidly stretching over her and she grinned, knowing she had been correct in her thoughts she had earlier in the day. The grin slid off her face quickly as the heel of his palm pushed up into her, her hips bucking down on him on instinct.

 

“Careful, Felicity. You need to control yourself. You don’t want to give away what we’re doing over here do you?”

 

Shaking her head, she gritted her teeth and steeled her hips. _She hated him. Truly._

 

“Good girl.”

 

His simple reply should not have been as sexy as it was. But then, she was learning almost everything about him was sexy, wasn’t she?

 

His fingers dipped below the edge of her thong, and she could feel his chest rumble with the groan of realization that she was bare underneath. She smiled in satisfaction, pleased to have brought him down with something in her own arsenal. 

 

She felt his index finger slide up and down her opening, teasing her but never delving in between. Her hands gripped the seat rest beside her, forcing herself to sit still. His finger slipped  back and forth, over and over and she wants nothing more than to lift her hips and force his fingers to slip within her, but she manages to restrain. Barely.

 

After a beat, one rough finger finally slides in, and she feels his breath hitch beside her ear as he dips into her slick opening. She’s almost embarrassingly wet, so fast, but she knows he’s pleased by it and so she finds it difficult to be anything other than incredibly turned on.

 

Slowly, his finger begins inching in, a little - a little more, before slowly retreating once again. He does this a few more times, setting a slow and torturous rhythm as he begins to build her up.

 

Felicity wants to scream in frustration. She’s always been loud in bed, something that had been hard to accept when she was younger, and then had become something she was proud of as she had pushed into an experienced young woman. Being vocal in bed was not something all women felt comfortable with, comfortable enough with themselves to let go and let their partners know how they were feeling. She was not those women though, and while that usually was something she prided herself on - it was something that was incredibly difficult to bear here, now, on a flight full of people where she knew she needed to keep quiet.

 

She had just grown accustomed to the feel of Oliver’s finger flipping in and out when he suddenly upped the ante, his finger plunging deeply and swiftly into her before pulling out and doing it once more, twice more. Her mouth drops, and she knows, _knows_ , she’s beginning to breathe a little too heavily, too loud, but then a second finger joins the first and she doesn’t care anymore. His fingers push, stretching her open to him and it feels so delicious that her surroundings fail to take any sort of importance.

 

In and out, his fingers continue to move, sliding her juice around and she groans, unable to stop the sound from spilling from her lips as she feels his fingers separate inside of her, opening into a scissor motion as he continues plunging them within her.

 

“Shhh, baby, I know. _Fuck_ , I know it’s good but you have to try to be quiet.” His voice is thick and heavy in her ear and although he had good intentions, it only serves to make her grow wetter, more aroused as his words wrap around her.

 

Her right hand moves up to softly close around his strong forearm, grasping it weakly in her hand as it moves vigorously under the blanket. She needs something to hold onto, some way to steady her sanity.

 

Her eyes dart open in remembrance of their surroundings, looking to the aisles across from theirs, but nothing is amiss. Something within her unclenches in the knowledge of that comfort and she knows she is hurtling towards the edge. The one that had been evading her for so, so long. Finally within grasp.

 

“Oliver, hmmm, Oliver -”, her voice is a whisper but he somehow just _knows_. Whether it’s the tightening of herself around his finger and the pure need in her voice - or their apparent shared connection - he gets it.

 

His left hand, unoccupied, reaches over them suddenly, grasping her nape in his hand and turning her head to face him. His lips are on hers then, and she groans, unable or unwilling to believe his lips could feel that good. His tongue moves inside as soon as her mouth hitches open, tangling and sucking on hers for all he’s worth.

 

She hums into his mouth, his lips breaking into a slight smile around hers at the sound, before she feels his thumb moving over her, circling her clit.

 

If you asked Felicity how she had ended up 30,000 feet in the air with a stranger’s fingers embedded deep inside of her, she wouldn’t be able to answer you.

 

It wasn’t because she didn’t know how it had happened - she knew that just fine.

 

But because said stranger currently had two fingers plunged deep inside of her, rocketing in and out as his thumb caressed her clit. So no, she couldn’t answer you. The only _somewhat_ rational thought she had before the pleasure overtook her was that the cheap, wool blanket the airline provided was probably doing a piss-poor job of concealing his hand.

 

She didn’t care.

 

His thumb circles her clit another second, two more, before he bites down softly on her lip - in warning - and then he’s pressing down on her clit, his fingers still moving within her. She shatters then, and the unrestrained moan leaving her lips is captured by his mouth as he continues to push his fingers into her, letting her ride it out.

 

She can feel the aftershocks rocketing through her as she clenches rhythmically around his fingers, panting softly into him and knows it is the cause of his resulting groan, as he surely he is imagining her clenching around another part of himself. He has to be - because she _definitely_ is, and she was the one who had just had an a amazing orgasm 30,000 feet in the air.

 

Catching her breath, she looks over, seeing him straining against the flimsy blanket, which is doing absolutely nothing to hide his impressive erection. She’s itching to get her hands on him. She feels his fingers pet at her for a few seconds longer, and she shivers tremulously before they finally withdraw from her heat, leaving her feeling rather bereft.

 

Moving her gaze to his own, she feels her pulse speed up once more as she takes in his dark irises, blown wide with arousal. He moves in again, his hand moving up her neck to tangle into her hair as his lips ravage hers. His care for those around him completely eradicated as they move against one another.

 

“You feel so good around me, Felicity. So, perfect.” He whispered into her mouth.

 

_When was the last time a man had made her feel like this? Oh right. Never._

 

Her right hand has just hit his thigh, preparing to return the favor when the voice of their captain suddenly fills the air to inform them of their impending descent into the Boston area.

 

Oliver groans pitifully into her mouth, reluctantly detaching from her, pulling back from her tempting lips.

 

She can’t help the giggle that escapes her as she takes in his disheveled and grumpy appearance - so unlike the happy, put together CEO she had met hours before.

 

His eyes tighten in response and he leans forward to grab her lips once again, not caring who sees. Nipping slightly, he presses one more soft kiss against her lips before whispering into her ear.

 

“We’re not done here, Felicity. Not by a long shot. Where are you staying this weekend?”

 

_God yes._

 

 


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity meets a cute stranger at the liquor store.

Her hand swipes fruitlessly at the air, Felicity willing her arm to just _extend_ a little bit longer. Long enough to reach the beautiful, beautiful bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sitting on the top shelf of the liquor store. Sure, there are other brands below, but this is her favorite red wine and she’s had a really shitty day.

The tips of her fingers touch random sections of glass aimlessly and she groans pitifully to herself.

_I’m absolutely going to break one of these glass bottles, aren’t I? This is something I would definitely do. And then not only will I not have the bottle of wine I want, but I’ll have to pay for all of the wasted wine that will be on my new sweater and the floor. Why am I so short, why -_

Her internal musings are cut short by the sudden barrage of heat at her back. Even though her mind is blank, not quite caught up on the situation at hand - her body knows the score, tightening almost immediately as a hard body pushes just slightly against her, a long arm reaching over her head to grab at the bottle she’s been tirelessly swinging at for the past five minutes.

It’s almost automatic that she leans back into it, following the heat as it moves further behind her, bottle of red wine safely in hand. It’s then she realizes what she’s doing - pushing up into a total stranger. She jerks back, losing her footing and stumbling at the sudden loss of contact.

Strong arms immediately pull her back, righting her on her feet and she feels the blood rushing to her face as she’s surely sporting a bright red blush. Counting to five in her head, she tries to calm herself down before turning to meet her Wine Savior.

“Wow, I’m so, so sorry. Thank you so much, I -, “ the words comically die in her throat as she comes face to face with the source of heat. He’s beautiful, handsome, and about a million other adjectives that are just dying to spill from her mouth.

“Don’t mention it. Although I have to say, I definitely had you pegged for more of a white wine type of girl. Maybe a nice rosé.”

She knows her mouth is still open, can tell from the amused grin that pulls at the corners of his ridiculously good looking lips. His eyes are sparkling as he waits for her answer.

_Her answer! Right! But that would require talking and she’s obviously not very great at that. Well only in her head. If only she could make those words leave her mouth as fast as they happened in her head._

“Umm… what?” _Wow, that was smooth. What is wrong with me?_

He looks back at her, still amused, but a question in his clear blue eyes. “Wow, that was impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have an entire conversation in their head like that before.”

She groans, a hand slapping over her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually so terrible at communicating. I mean, occasionally I say the wrong thing here and there and make stupid jokes but...” He’s smiling again, wide enough to break her from the tangent she was on and find her equilibrium. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve had a really shitty day and I guess I am just more out of it than I thought.”

He’s nodding calmly, like nothing out of the ordinary has just happened and she wants to kiss him all the more for it. He lifts the bottle she forgot was in his hand. “Hence the wine, huh?”

“Right!” She grins brightly, happy to have made some sort of sense in the mayhem.

His finger taps his mouth and she’s momentarily distracted by his fingers. His long, sinewy fingers. _Pull it together, Felicity._

“Well, all jokes aside, I’ve been looking for a new wine to try. Is this one good?”

She snorts. “Come on. You are not out shopping for red wine on a Friday night.”

“Uh, okay - a little offended. What is that supposed to mean?”

“No,” she backpedals, “I wasn’t trying to offend you, but… I mean, you just don’t really seem like a red wine type of guy.”

His head tilts. “Alright, I’ll bite. What kind of guy do I seem like?”

“Honestly? An expensive scotch. Maybe a rich, smoky whiskey.”

He laughs then, and it’s not like the amused grins he’s been throwing her way ever since she quite literally fell into him. No, it’s a deep, full bellied laugh and she’s struck once again by how attractive he is. Especially right now.

“Okay, okay,” his right hand is held up in front of him, the left still clutching her bottle of wine, “You got me. I am a scotch man - nice catch, by the way. But you have to admit, it certainly provided me a great opening to come talk to you.”

She laughs before she realizes exactly what he’s said. “Uh, why would you need an opening to come talk to me? I’m just me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Her breath catches and her jaw feels heavy, adjusting slightly open.

“I know it must seem ridiculous, the way you keep making me speechless, it’s just…”

“It’s just what? No one’s ever told you that you’re beautiful? I find that hard to believe.”

“No! I mean yes, they have but not someone like you.”

He sighs exasperatedly. “There you go again, ‘someone like you’. You’re beginning to give a man a complex… uh, I never caught your name.”

“Felicity.”

“Felicity.” He smiles back, and she wonders if at any point that night, she’ll be able to speak like a normal human being. “Well, Felicity. Honestly, my plans tonight were to grab a bottle of scotch and go sit at my friend Tommy’s house to discuss work. But maybe if you’re up to it, we can begin my education on wine?”

“You’re asking me out? You really want to…” She doesn’t lack self confidence very often - well ever. She’s usually equipped with a smart response or joke, but there’s something about him that’s throwing him off of her balance. First physically, and now… She thinks maybe it might be fun to fall further.

His open hand falls on her shoulder, the heat from before immediately engulfing her and she feels safe, comforted by his touch. “Yes, Felicity. I’m asking you out. What do you say? We can grab this bottle, hell - we better make it two after your bad day - and go get to know each other.”

She smirks back at him, finding her confidence in his assurances and the fact that he truly seems interested in her. “But I don’t even know your name.”

He laughs, handing her the bottle of wine she had struggled to find what seems like hours ago.

“I’m Oliver. Oliver Queen.”

**  
**It turns out that Oliver Queen does in fact, enjoy red wine. Enough to drink both bottles that Friday night, another the following week, and multiple glasses the night of their wedding.


	5. Red Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt idea of someone's shower breaking and their neighbor helping out. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think.

Felicity stared angrily at the shower knob, desperation and frustration building in the pit of her chest. It was the third time in as many months that her shower refused to turn on. After the second time, her landlord had personally promised it would not happen again, hiring a brand new technician to come out. Desperate to believe him, she had trusted the repair technician when he promised his short, twenty minute repair would do the trick.

 

That was a month ago.

 

Staring at the evidence of his blunder in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel anger.

 

Normally, she was a level-headed and composed individual.

 

Normally, she would’ve taken it with a grain of salt and would’ve headed to her gym for a quick workout and simply caught a shower there while she waited for her landlord to get someone out.

 

Those were the things she would do, if she didn’t have a date coming to pick her up in an hour and a half.

 

Canceling was _not_ an option either.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Barry would understand. She knew he would, the man was patient  and caring almost to a fault. But he had gone out of his way to get them tickets to a gallery opening for one of their favorite shared artists and there was no way she was going to miss it. Not because of a broken shower.

 

She hesitated only briefly before shrugging on her red silk robe, grabbing some essentials, and heading down the hall to her neighbor’s door. She was just contemplating the sanitary issues of having come over without shoes on when the door swung open.

 

Oliver.

 

A _lot_ of Oliver.

 

_Oh boy._

 

Felicity was not stupid. She had known, for over a year, that her neighbor - her friend - across the hall was an incredibly attractive man. Standing just over six feet tall, he was built like a god, all muscle and scruff. The bright blue eyes and _the jaw..._

 

He was everything women dreamed about.

 

Except for the tall, beautiful, blonde that was attached to him. _Sara_.

 

It wasn’t that Felicity was jealous. She liked Sara well enough. The woman was always polite when they crossed paths in the hallway or when Felicity stopped by at inopportune moments to borrow essential kitchen items that she had been too busy to grab herself.  

 

But, okay. She was kind of jealous.

 

Oliver and her had built up a rapport over the past year and a half. He came by for technical issues like his Wi-Fi going down or his satellite TV losing signal during a big game. Likewise, she went over when the sugar was low or there was a large spider in the house that desperately needed to be killed. And sometimes they just got together to hang out and share a glass of wine or watch TV together.

 

It was all very domestic, except for none of the fringe benefits. Or any benefits, really.

 

But somehow in the mix of it they had become friends and it was all really _nice._

 

So finding Oliver here, shirtless, in front of her, without anything holding back her eyes from…

 

It was, well, _a lot._

 

He coughed and she realized she had been grossly staring at the six - no, was it eight? - pack in front of her for longer than was probably appropriate. Feeling a blush rising through her cheeks, she laughed nervously before meeting his eyes.

 

Luckily he seemed more amused than irritated and she smiled for real then, happy to see him.

 

“Hey, Oliver. It’s great to see you. Listen, I really need a favor and normally I wouldn’t ask - I mean, I ask for favors all of the time - but I really wouldn’t ask for _this_ type of favor if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But if Sara’s here, I can find another option I guess,” she rushed.

 

Oliver only shook his head, the amusement on his face growing as he ushered her inside of his apartment. Once the door was closed behind them, he turned towards her, relaxed in the comfort of his home. She felt anything but.

 

For a moment, they stood in silence. While she had spent moments at the door measuring his appearance in front of her, it seemed it was now his turn. As his eyes spent longer than normal fixed on her legs, she suddenly remembered what she was wearing. Unable to speak with her heart pounding so loudly in her ears, she was glad when his eyes finally moved back up to her face.

 

She pointedly ignored the look in his eyes that had her mind screaming questions at her.

 

Nothing good could come from pondering those questions.

 

“Felicity, you know I can never say no to you. What do you need?”

 

The rough timbre of his voice washed over Felicity and she took a deep breath.

 

“So, my shower broke,” she started, pausing as Oliver interrupted to interject a surprised _again?,_ earning a nod from her before continuing, “Yeah, _again_. And I would just head down to the gym to grab a workout and a quick shower, but I kind of have a date tonight and he’s going to be here really soon so would it be okay if I, maybe, took a shower here?”

 

She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. It was just a shower. People bathed every day and shared showers in apartments and dorms.

 

Why was this such a big deal?

 

Maybe it was because she was in a silk robe and Oliver was half-dressed and had a girlfriend. And she had a date so she _really_ needed to stop thinking about this.

 

He laughed. “Of course you can take a shower. Mi casa es su casa, or however that goes. I’m not really sure, I think I got a D in high school Spanish.”

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank _you,_ ” she breathed, a laugh on her lips, “You’re a lifesaver.”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes in fake exasperation, the amused smile still present on his face. She beamed back at him, lost in the laser focus of his deep, blue eyes. After a moment, she realized she really needed to get moving if she wanted to finish getting ready before Barry arrived to picked her up.

 

“Great, so I’m gonna go… take a shower.”

 

She had only gotten a couple of feet before it hit her.

 

Turning back towards him she said, “Oh, shoot. I just realized I forgot to grab a towel before coming over here. Would you mind if I used one of yours? If not, I can go run over and get another.”

 

He shook his head, walking past her to the linen closet in the hall. She followed, grasping the towel he held out for her with a gracious smile.

 

“Thanks, Oliver. I’m really gonna owe you one.”

 

“Don’t mention it. I think this is one of the easiest favors you’ve ever asked of me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the bookshelf you made me carry up three flights of stairs when the elevator was down. And then made me assemble,” he pointed out.

 

She turned pink, remembering that day with vivid clarity. What had been meant to be an easy transport from car, to elevator, to apartment, had turned into a two-hour long ordeal. And Oliver had been sweaty. Really sweaty.

 

“Hey! I bought you dinner to make up for that one,” she protested.

 

He side eyed her. “Right. I’m going to let you get to it then,” Oliver spoke. She had just reached the doorway of the bathroom when she heard him add, “And by the way… Sara and I broke up.”

 

Her mouth opened as she looked back at him.

 

_What?_

 

Shrugging, he padded away towards the kitchen leaving her dumbfounded.

 

Knowing she needed to get moving, she went through the motions in a haze. Turning on the shower and undressing, she barely let herself snoop through his things before climbing into the warm shower. The warm water was a blessing as it rained down over and her tumultuous thoughts.

 

_They broke up?_

Sara and Oliver had been together for almost a year now. She remembers, with only a slight pain, the first day she had seen them together. Her and Oliver had only just started getting to know each other and she had thought, _hoped,_ he might have felt the same... _something_ between them that she had.

 

She had been wrong.

 

She had worried that his newfound relationship meant an end to, what she had then known was friendship between them, but it had never been an issue. She guessed she wasn’t all that frightening to someone like Sara.

 

But for them to have broken up…

 

It changed everything and nothing at all.

 

Oliver didn’t have those types of feelings for her and she had Barry. She wasn’t sure if Barry had long term potential, but it didn’t matter.

 

Someone like Oliver wouldn’t be on the market for long. His type never were.

 

* * *

 

Oliver heard the water spring on and took a deep breath, one hand running through his hair restlessly. He had not been expecting this today.

 

He and Sara had only broken up last week and while it had been a long time coming, and his choice for that matter, he could admit that he had been doing his best to avoid running into Felicity in the hall.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her.

 

No, everything in him wanted to do just that.

 

But he was afraid that if he did, she would be able to read it all over his face.

 

They had broken up over Felicity, afterall.

 

Oliver swung his fridge open, grabbing a beer from its place next to a half-eaten sub and some cheese he was sure was bad by now. Wincing at the state of his fridge, he quickly shut the door, popping the top off his beer and sitting down on the couch. The cushions barely moved under the weight of him and he wondered again why he had let his mom pick out a “modern and utterly stylish couch, Oliver”, rather than picking the comfortable one he had wanted.

 

His thoughts had been working tirelessly over the situation for days, but Felicity’s re-appearance had the cycle starting all over again.

 

For months, Sara had been at him over his “ _neighbor’s_ ” surprise visits. Sure, Felicity stopped by here and there. It wasn’t a crime, they were friends. He suspected Sara didn’t realize how close they were, or just how often Oliver himself stopped by her place, but he hadn’t been about to tell her.

 

Everything had been completely innocent.

 

Everything except for his feelings for the petite blonde currently in his shower. Naked, in his shower.

 

He wasn't trying to be a perv or anything. But he could only imagine the sight of her. The water pouring down her face, drops leaking down in between the slopes of her breasts. He shifted, feeling himself beginning to harden.  _So not the time or place._

 

He groaned, eyes slipping shut at the imagery. He had it bad and he knew it.

 

Ever since the day he had watched her move in, things had been different. That first day, he had known his life was about to change. For months all they had were short moments in the elevator or at the shared mailboxes downstairs, before he finally found reason to knock on her door.

 

Looking back, the milk excuse was a poor one. He didn’t even _drink_ milk. But she hadn’t known that, and it had led to their first real conversation and a new precedent for coming by each other’s places when they needed something.

 

Oliver found reason to need things quite often.

 

But after awhile, he realized how important Felicity had come to him in such a short amount of time.

 

For someone who had only had one girlfriend before, it had been a startling realization. And in short, he had been absolutely terrified. Terrified of falling for this girl and terrified for screwing up the friendship that had developed between the two of them. So he had decided that friendship was all he needed. As long as she was there in some capacity, it was good.

 

Enter Sara.

 

It had been a ten month exercise in futility because no matter how hard he tried, he still spent days wondering what she was up to at work or if her slimy boss Ray was bothering her. He spent nights dreaming about her pale skin underneath his own, her voice calling his name. No matter how much he tried to commit to Sara, nothing worked.

 

Eventually, she noticed. She tried to salvage it on her end, but in the end, they both knew it wasn’t going to work out.

 

So Oliver had spent the last week trying to figure out where to go from here.

 

All of the same reasons that had prevented him from pursuing Felicity in the first place were still there. But the one difference was that now, months later, he had recognized one universal truth about the situation.

 

He was in love with Felicity Smoak.

 

So what was he going to do about it?

 

The shower turned off then, bringing him out of his musings. He pictured _his_ towel sliding around her body, and wondered when the hell he had gotten so pitiful and desperate. Allowing his head to fall back on the cushion, he sighed.

 

A date.

 

It wasn’t the first time had heard the name Barry Allen, but it was the first time he had heard it in conjunction with anything romantic. He had been lucky, he supposed, that he hadn’t been witness to many men in Felicity’s life. He had heard about a couple here and there, but for the most part, Felicity worked way too many long hours to spend much time dating.

 

Being grateful for that was one of his worst grievances.

 

The door to his bathroom opened moments later, the hinge creaking softly and he fought the urge to turn his head and watch her come out. Taking a sip of his beer, he squelched the desire to tell her not to go on her date. He didn’t have any right to do that.

 

She appeared in front of him seconds later, a vision in her red robe. He hoped to god she had not noticed his reaction to it earlier, because… yeah, he had been frighteningly obvious in his perusal of her. And now, with her hair wet and falling around her face? 

 

His stomach turned to lead.

 

“Thank you so much, Oliver. You never realize how much you appreciate the simple luxury of a shower until it’s taken from you,” she laughed lightly.

 

“You got it, Felicity.”

 

She nodded. She turned to leave before pausing, her head twisting slightly to look back at him. “I’m sorry. About you and Sara. I have to go now, but if you want to talk about it, you know I’m here, right?”

 

Oliver could feel his heart swell as he looked back at her. She was really something and he had blown it, spending months miserable over his own insecurities.

 

“I know,” he responded. “Thank you.”

 

She nodded again, shooting him an easy smile before heading out the door.

 

Oliver sighed, letting his head fall back on the couch once again.

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

Felicity felt guilty. Her and Barry had been at the gallery for about an hour now, but Felicity had never really _shown_ up. Her mind was still back in the tastefully colored walls of apartment 3B, considering Oliver’s confession and the contemplative look on his face when she had told him that she was there for him.

 

So she had wandered the white halls of the gallery, offering up just enough commentary to be polite, but otherwise withdrawing into her thoughts.

 

In other words, she was an absolutely horrid date and Barry had caught on quickly that there was something off, her usual babble absent from their conversation. Thankfully, he had stuck to long side glances rather than questions.

 

Finishing the glass of Pinot Noir in her hand, she finally turned to him to beg off.

 

“I’m sorry, Barry. I think I’m just going to head home. I’ve been out of it all night and I’ve been a terrible date for you, it’s best for me to just leave,” she murmured.

 

Barry, the ever understanding gentleman, only replied, “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. A friend just gave me some news today and I haven’t been able to shake it from my thoughts. I’m sorry, really.”

 

“Don’t be, Felicity,” he stopped her, “I love how caring you are. It’s one of the things that drew me to you in the first place.

 

She smiled sadly. In another time, another place, her and Barry could have really worked well together.

 

But in this time and place, Oliver was still very much at the forefront of her mind and she didn’t see it changing any time soon.

 

With a kiss to the cheek and a promise to talk soon, Felicity flagged a cab and headed back towards her home.

 

It doesn’t occur to her to stop by Oliver’s apartment until she’s already in front of his door, a hand poised to knock.

 

_What is she doing?_

 

She tells herself she’s here to be there for him, to talk about his break up or anything else he might need. But she can’t deny the pull she has felt all evening just to spend time with him. It’s been over a week since they’ve really talked and she simply misses him.

 

It’s becoming harder to deny that her simple feelings of attraction for Oliver Queen have morphed into something a little… more.

 

Her knock sounds loud in the silence of the hallway and she checks her watch to see it’s only 8pm. She realizes that he may not even be home, she hadn’t asked what his plans were earlier, when the door swings open.

 

For the second time that day, she’s greeted to the sight of Oliver Queen shirtless in front of her. She feels inordinately lucky.

 

Oliver shoots her an adorably confused look before opening his door wider in invitation.

 

“What are you doing here? Not that you’re not always welcome, but I didn’t think you would be done with your date so quickly.”

 

She grunted, already beelining for the couch and sliding off her ridiculously high heels. If they weren’t so cute she never would wear these things. With a gentle sigh of appreciation of her newfound freedom, she wiggled her toes and leaned back on his couch.

 

Felicity hummed, her head swiveling around to glance at his kitchen. “Would you happen to have any wine on hand?”

 

Oliver rolled his eyes but walked over to retrieve a bottle and glass for her and a beer for himself. Setting everything down on his coffee table he said, “Talk, Felicity.”

 

She rolled her shoulders, pouring a liberal glass of wine and deciding how to approach the situation. She watches him while she does, noting the tense posture of his shoulders.

 

“The date was a dud,” she said.

 

“Why’s that?” Oliver replied.

 

She shrugged. “My heart wasn’t in it and my head was preoccupied with thoughts of my newly single friend.”

 

“Felicity, hey… It’s really not a big deal. I’m totally fine. Sara and I… we weren’t meant to work out. It was a long time coming.” The words leave him in a calm and rational manner, but the tone of his voice speaks volumes. There still is something not quite right here.

 

“So why do you look _so…_ put out. And for that matter, why haven’t I seen you for over a week?” Felicity countered.

 

Oliver exhaled and shot her a gruntled look. A look that screamed, _Why are you making me talk about this?_ But she wasn’t going to back down. Giving him a nonplussed look back, she made a show of relaxing back further into the couch, her wine dangling from one hand in complete comfort.

 

With a shake of his head, Oliver looked off to the side of the room for a moment, steeling himself for the conversation. She wondered what was nagging at him. If it truly wasn’t just the break up, then what?

 

“Look, it’s not a big deal Felicity. Just some stuff I need to work out on my own,” he finally revealed.

 

She paused only to set her glass down on the table, before scooting closer on the couch to him. Placing a hand on his forearm, she said, “Whatever it is, Oliver. Let me help you. I want to help you.”

 

Felicity wasn’t prepared for the tension that clouded the air as their eyes locked on one another.  It had never been like this before. There had been moments in the past month, where she had wondered... but nothing like this. Nothing when her skin felt tight over her bones. Her breath hitched as she watched his eyes darken, her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips. 

 

The air felt impossibly heavy and just as she wondered at what to do, what to say next, Oliver moved closer to her. Closer, until his warm mouth sealed over hers, his hand gripping the back of her neck as he pulled her to him.

 

Surprised, she gasped into his mouth, and he wasted no time in entering hers. Her gasp quickly turned into a moan as his tongue delved in, discovering her taste and wrapping around her own in a dance of passion.

 

For seconds, or minutes - she couldn’t tell, lost in the sensation of him after months and months of _want_ \- they continued to learn each other’s kiss. It was amazing, and Felicity felt like she could go on for hours without coming up for air.

 

A biological impossibility, of course. But… yeah, it was really that great.

 

Eventually, they pulled back, Oliver’s breath washing over her lips for a second before he placed one last soft kiss upon her and then pulling away for real.

 

“Not that I didn’t enjoy that, because _wow_ , you’re a really great kisser,” she whispered, voice frail, “But… what…?”

 

Oliver reddened, his head dipping down slightly before rising to meet her eyes head on.

 

“It was never going to work with Sara when I was in love with you, Felicity.”

  
  
  
THE END


	6. Dark/Light - Post 4x17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity thinks about the picture frame she hasn’t been able to remove from her desk.

During the day, the light hits the glass in the frame at just the right angle for Felicity to pretend she’s unable to see what lies beneath it.

 

At night, there’s no pretending.

 

It’s clear and right _there_ and every time she allows her eyes to flit over to it, she wonders why.

 

Why is she torturing herself?

 

Why does she still have the photo sitting right _here_?

 

She spends the majority of her time now at this desk. Yeah, there’s also a good amount of time spent in the lab with Curtis, but this is _her_ space. It used to only take precedence during the day. It was only one desks out of two that carried importance in Felicity Smoak’s life.

 

But then she traded in the desk at night. Left her computers and her system and shut the door on that part of her life. She could be a hero outside of the dark and the lies; from everything that takes and takes and _takes_ and gives only a little in return.

 

Keeping this picture - of _him_ \- sitting right here, in her _new_ space?

 

… It goes against every one of the new rules she’s put in place for her life.

 

No helping the team.

 

No thinking about helping the team.

 

No pretending that being a hero allows for any type of valuable life.

 

And there certainly should be no thinking about Oliver.

 

But every day in the light, she sits here and pretends she can’t see the happy faces that lie under the glass. The sun that shines in the countryside of Positano. That she can’t still remember the feeling of Oliver’s muscled arms wrapped around her in ribbons of protection and love.

 

She pretends she can’t see her own unhappy face staring back at her in the reflection of the glass.

 

And every night, she allows herself an infinite amount of moments to take her eyes off the computer screen in front of her. One minute… two minutes... of just letting herself get lost in the memories before she yanks herself back, and reminds herself of the lies and all the reasons her and Oliver will never work in the long run.

 

With each day that passes, she tells herself it’s the last one.

 

 _Tomorrow_ she’ll pick it up and take it home with her. Shove it into her purse without regard for the contents it contains.

 

She’ll pack it in the box she keeps in her closet that tells a story of a different life - one that was hers not so long ago.

 

One where she was happy in a way that spelled forever and one she had never thought she would find... but had found in Oliver’s arms.

 

It’s a box she hasn’t dared touch since settling into her new temporary home.

 

But it doesn’t remove the physical _ache_ she feels when she crawls into the bed, alone.

 

The comforter is nice, expensive even - but it feels rough and scratchy as she twists and turns with the feeling of discomfort all night.

 

She ignores the lingering thought in her mind that what she’s really searching for are Oliver’s arms.

 

At night, in between the complex computer algorithms and the beta testing of their new Spinal chips, her mind runs through every possibility that could lead the two of them back together.

 

She wonders…

 

What if she could just... _forgive_ him?

 

Maybe they could work, could figure it out. How to play their lives between the dark and the light. There has to be a way, she thinks with desperation.

 

In her head, she repeatedly turns over the guilt she feels for bringing them back to Star City. For thinking they needed to be back here, fighting crime in order to be happy.

 

Oliver had the right idea from the start -- staying far away from this life.

 

… And she had pulled them right back in and convinced herself and him that it was going to all be okay.

 

But then she remembers the lie.

 

And it had nothing and _everything_ to do with being back here and being superheroes.

 

Her thoughts run her in circles every night.

 

But at the end of the line, her resolve stays in place and the distance only grows further.

 

So she gets up every day and makes the bed filled with scratchy sheets.

 

She goes into work, sits at her desk and allows herself to have just this picture frame. Tells herself the next day it will be gone and the ache will follow with it.

 

But the cycle repeats for days, a week.

 

Until her one and only nemesis Brie comes into _her_ new space and brings the darkness into it. Taints it.

 

She puts the picture frame down in the midst of chaos, unable and unwilling to let other people see her one weakness still lies with the man who broke them.

 

When the last of the robot bees are gone and her mom is safely ensconced in their hotel room, she goes back to her office. She takes a look around and tells herself it will return to normal the next day. That the darkness doesn’t have to be permanent.

 

When her eyes zero in on the flattened photo frame, she knows it’s time.

 

The frame finds its’ way to the box in her closet by the end of the night.

 

_You never, never have to thank me._

 

As Oliver’s words float through her mind, she finds for the first time since their house of cards crumbled… she does feel grateful.

 

She’s finally ready to move on.

 

_(That's what she tells herself in the echoes of her empty apartment.)_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S5 Olicity Speculation Role-Reversal. Oliver starts dating again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spoiler Alert] You may have seen some speculation that Felicity may be getting a new boyfriend in season 5. It has a lot of people angry. I'm not one of them, however it did make me ask - why not see Oliver be the one to start dating first? We've already seen Felicity date (Ray) and Oliver have to deal with that. Why not Felicity? So... a quick fic. 
> 
> A little short and sweet but mostly an attempt to break myself out of a 4 month writing rut. I apologize for any terrible-ness that may ensue. xo

When the words begin to blur to a wobbly, unreadable mess on the screen in front of her, Felicity finally decides it’s maybe time to take a break. 

 

Her eyes wander to the clock in the right hand corner of her screen, widening when she realizes how late it’s gotten. She hadn’t even realized.

 

Felicity didn’t have a deadline anymore these days. That’s what happens when your own company fires you and politely asks you to stay out of your building. Other people stop caring when you finish your work.

 

The source of her unwavering dedication  _ (see also: incredible need to be distracted)  _ had been the phone call and subsequent recorded voicemail she had received earlier that day.

 

_ “This message is for Mrs. Felicity Queen. The team here at The Phoenician of Star City wants to thank you again for choosing us as your wedding venue. We hope your day was everything you dreamed of and more. We were honored to be your host for the day and hope you think of us again in the future when planning your events.” _

 

It had been one of those scheduled, post-courtesy calls that all companies do when trying to retain its customers. But it had thrown her for a loop. A big loop.

 

Things had not been easy lately for the team as it was. Digg had been back from active duty for months but to be truthful, Felicity had the feeling that he wasn’t completely  _ back _ with them just yet. Thea still refused to step foot in the lair - something she knew bothered Oliver more he cared to admit. And Oliver… 

 

Oliver was  _ dating _ someone.

 

Even the word sounds ugly in her head. 

 

And yes, she knows -  _ knows _ that she’s supposed to be perfectly okay with that. With him moving on. It’s been months upon months and she had been the one to tell him, without hesitation, that they would not be getting back together.  _ Ever. _

 

But she hadn’t expected…

 

She didn’t know what she had been expecting really. But when she had overheard Oliver telling Digg that him and... Melissa? Melinda? - she isn’t quite sure, to be honest  _ (selfishly she had thought at the time that it would never really matter) _ \- would be going out on date number  _ four _ yesterday, the stone had settled deeply into her lungs, the tell tale feeling of drowning washing over her for not the first time since she had handed Oliver Queen her wedding ring back and all of her dreams along with it.

 

She hasn’t finished searing a hole into the wall of the lair when she hears footsteps descending down the back staircase.

 

“Felicity is that you?” 

 

Closing her eyes and praying for a strength she doesn’t currently possess, she turns around and weakly replies, “Hey, Oliver.”

 

“What are you still doing here? It’s past one in the morning. I’d have thought you’d be long gone by now.”

 

“Me too,” she laughs humorlessly.

 

He stops, his head and eyebrow cocking in a way that is just so  _ Oliver _ that it only serves to make her even angrier. She doesn’t want to know how Oliver is going to react to everything she says. She doesn’t want to know that right now he’s probably worriedly running through a mental checklist of everything that could possibly be worrying her at the moment because that’s what he does and he always does it  _ so _ well. 

 

But she does know. Because she knows him just as well as he knows her.

 

The irrational anger and exhaustion from the day only continue to build, and her voice is clipped when she mutters, “I’m fine.”

 

“Come on, Felicity. Talk to me.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?” Oliver retorts. 

 

“Because you’re not the one I do that with anymore.”

 

Her words fall on him like a shadow, his eyes falling even as he remains in ignorance of the thoughts racing through her head.

 

“Felicity, I -”

 

She interrupts. “Why didn’t you cancel the wedding venue?” 

 

It seems she does still do that with him.

 

She tells herself in the back of her mind to remember this moment, no matter how painful, because it’s the first time in a long while that she has truly surprised Oliver Queen.

 

“I… what brought this up? That was months ago.”

 

She snorts. “Months ago or not, I received a very nice pre-recorded message today from The Phoenician thanking  _ Mrs. Felicity Queen _ for using them for her perfect day. At first I thought they had just made a mistake and called by accident but then I remembered asking you to cancel it. A quick little hack into their database told me that you never did it in the first place.”

 

He sighs then. A deep, heavy sigh that speaks of his own bone weary exhaustion and she almost feels bad for placing this conversation into his lap after the night he’s had on the streets but she  _ won’t _ feel bad for this. She won’t.

 

“I’m sorry, Felicity. I meant to cancel the venue, I did… but…” He trails off as if he expects her to know. And a small part of her does. But she wants, no  _ needs _ to hear him say it. 

 

“But?”

 

“I picked up the phone to call them. Dialed, even. Ran through the words I was supposed to say. But I couldn’t do it. Canceling it meant…,” his eyes trail off to focus distantly behind her, and she knows he’s remembering that day clearly, “It meant admitting that we were really over. I wasn’t ready to accept that back then.”

 

She doesn’t mean to say what comes out of her mouth next. But she’s  _ tired  _ and lonely and a little bit bitter. “I guess that’s a lot easier for you now, considering.”

 

His brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

 

The words keep coming, an avalanche of things kept inside that refuses to stop, even as tiny, invisible hands in her brain reach to pull them back. “Date number four, huh? Must be getting pretty serious.”

 

He’s silent for awhile. The words almost continue to leap without restraint from her tongue when he finally answers, “It’s late, we’re both tired. So I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and just say good night, Felicity.”

 

Oliver’s mouth is flat and she can sense his answering anger creeping in the edges of his vision. It would be smart, she thinks. To agree and chalk it up to a momentary lapse of sanity. But they’ve never  _ talked _ this out and now that she’s started, she can’t seem to stop.

 

“Right, of course. The Oliver Queen patented way of dealing with things. Pretend they didn’t happen so everything can continue on its merry way while everyone else lives in ignorant bliss,” she retorts sarcastically.

 

His face drops and she feels a twinge of guilt because she isn’t this person anymore. She’s worked so hard for months, talking things through in her head and teaching herself to not say things in anger that she doesn’t mean.

 

But if she finally just admits it to herself, just allows herself one second - she knows that at the end of the day, really… 

 

She’s just  _ hurt.  _ And lonely. And she really misses him.

 

Every second of every day.

 

“So what, Felicity? You don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me either?” Oliver whispers angrily, as though the concept is so vile he can’t stand to hear the words themselves.

 

“No, Oliver, that’s not-”

 

“You want to know what the best part is,” he laughs humorlessly, “I keep taking her on date after date, just trying,  _ hoping _ to feel something. Anything at all. Just something to tell me that maybe I didn’t throw away the last chance I had at ever being happy.” Oliver’s words hurt and anger her in equal measure and while she fights to find words to respond, she hears him mutter under his breath, “Serious, Felicity? Seriously pathetic, maybe.”

 

“That’s not my fault!” She urges, “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for making a tough decision after finding out the man I loved lied to me for months about something  _ monumental _ -”

 

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Felicity!”

 

“Then why are you doing it?” 

 

“What - are you forgetting that you started this tonight?” 

 

“Because I was hurt!” she bursts. “I listened to that message and all I could hear over and over in my head for hours was ‘ _ Mrs. Felicity Queen’.  _ Over and over. It’s what everyone should be calling me. But they’re not and now you’re  _ dating _ someone who isn’t me and I guess I had a hard time comprehending that.”

 

“You’ve been thinking about that for hours?” He interrupts.

 

She only nods, finding herself unable to speak around the sudden knot tied tightly in her throat.

 

“Hours…,” he shakes his head, “I’ve been in perpetual darkness for  _ months _ , Felicity….. You gave up on me.” Oliver’s voice catches and she fights to open her mouth and say something,  _ anything _ . Because that’s not what happened. It  _ can’t _ be what happened. 

 

“A couple of years ago when I was ready to give up you told me that I wasn’t alone, that you believed in me. And I believed you Felicity...... and then you stopped.”

 

She can’t help the tears from falling.

 

“That’s not fair, Oliver.”

 

He nods quickly, his anger beginning to overtake all of the other emotions battling within him. “No, it’s not. But since when is life fair? Was having to witness both of my parents die in front of me fair? Was your dad walking out and making you feel unwanted fair? Was having the choice of being in my son’s life taken out of my hands fair? Does any of this sound  _ fair  _ to you, Felicity?” His voice breaks on her name, his hand whipping out to slam the metal table in front of him. 

 

Felicity barely flinches, too caught up in the wild look in his eyes. The anger unfurls in her gut once again, twisting tight in her throat as she feels her own hands clench. 

 

“And was lying straight to my face fair, Oliver?”

 

“I was  _ scared,  _ Felicity,” he bursts, “Terrified! I made the wrong choice. I  _ know _ that. But I had just found out that  _ I  _ had been lied to for almost a decade! My own mother paid to have my son disappear. You can’t know what that’s like, Felicity.”

 

“You’re right, and I don’t. But do you think I wasn’t scared? I was paralyzed and learning how to live again and the person I loved more than anything in this world,  _ trusted _ more than anyone - betrayed that trust and made me rethink my whole universe. I get that you were scared because I was too. But that doesn’t excuse your actions or make it  _ hurt  _ any less.”

 

Her voice breaks on the last word and she can tell Oliver is clenching his fists, restraining everything inside of him and she wonders if it’s to stop himself for reaching out for her, much like she is doing the same within her own head.

 

But Oliver simply shakes his head, the anger beginning to drain out of him, leaving just a quiet resignation. “No it doesn’t. But finding that out, it didn’t just tilt the axis of everything I thought I knew… it destroyed me. I was confused and  _ lost _ and I chose wrong... And In the end, I lost my son again... and you at the same time.”

 

A tear slowly makes its way down her face and she wipes it away quickly, hoping the action will take with it some of the ache that claws inside of her chest. The walls of the lair feel tight, the silence between them from his last words growing larger - an invisible wall of distance between them. 

 

“You think I stopped believing in you?” She finally says. Laughing sadly, she walks over to a shelf behind him, pulling out a simple manilla folder and opening it carelessly - the papers dropping to the ground and sprawling out. He realizes they’re newspaper clippings, mostly with his face shining back at him. 

 

“You think I don’t care? Every single time they write something about Mayor Queen, I rip it out and place it in this folder. Sometimes it’s the same article, but it doesn’t matter. I stop at every single newsstand in the city I pass by to grab a paper just for the possibility of your name being mentioned.”

 

His mouth is opened in surprise, and she adds another tally to her ‘catch Oliver off guard count’ for the night. 

 

“Being proud of you isn’t something I can just turn off. I never stopped believing in you Oliver. I just didn’t know how to trust you anymore. I wanted to, but…”

 

Oliver nods, looking back at her, pain and something that looks suspiciously like love written across his face. 

 

All she sees is the tears he refuses to let fall. She moves her gaze down to her feet, unable to see the evidence of what they broke shining so clearly back at her.

 

“That day in the church, I told you that you were my always, Felicity. But you had already decided that I was no longer yours.” 

 

Felicity looks back up at him, finding his eyes glued on her. 

 

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be that for you,” he adds quietly.

 

Her heart leaps quickly, a false warmth filling her lungs before the next thought drains them so completely. When she remembers that sentiment aside, he truly is no longer hers. 

 

For the first time in eight months, she truly allows herself to consider how to change that.

 

“Oliver…” She trails off, not quite sure where she was planning on taking this. But it’s the sight of his glassy eyes, ripe with a heartache that seems too striking for how long he’s had to accept their break up, that does her in. “When I gave you back the ring the second time and told you I wanted you to keep it for good… maybe I didn’t mean that.”

  
They have a long way to go if they hope to ever find their way back to a place somewhere like they used to be. But maybe… just maybe, when they do - it’ll be an even better one.


End file.
